


Safeguard; Minicon Warrior, or Makeshift Dildo?

by SaltyTeaLeaves



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Cybertron
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Vore, Bestiality Suggestion, Degradation, Explicit Sexual Content, Fancanon Dark Universe, Forced Prostitution, Hermaphrodites, Hyper Breasts/Ass, Incest, Males With Breasts, Mindbreak, Monstrous tongues, Multi, Objectification, Puffy Anuses, Size Difference, Teratophilia, Valveplugs, Watersports, cleaning fetish, dubcon, noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:35:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22253509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaltyTeaLeaves/pseuds/SaltyTeaLeaves
Summary: God have mercy on my soul.This is a fanfiction where Safeguard (From the Transformers Cybertron Television Series) is violated by Shatter and Dropkick (From the Transformers Bumblebee Film).This follows an alternate universe set in a more dystopic Transformers world. Furthermore, Shatter and Dropkick are twins. Monster twins.I know there is no Heaven for me.
Relationships: Dropkick/Shatter (Transformers), Safeguard/Dropkick, Shatter/Safeguard, Shatter/Safeguard/Dropkick
Kudos: 7





	Safeguard; Minicon Warrior, or Makeshift Dildo?

***HOT INTER-MANUFACTURING-LINE ACTION!*** Safeguard the Dildo: Gangbanged by the Dirty Rally Cars. 

The air was heavy and humid with the taste of interfacing thick upon the air, wafting from each occupied, and thinly walled room. The sounds of fluids splattering across the floor, often promptly followed with a firm backhand, echoed out, causing the curvaceous minicon to jump with fright each time. Safeguard envied the days of Cybertron, before the war. Weeks spent tending to the shrine of the great and noble Vector Prime. His wizened optics of unmoving steel would often gaze down at the devoted mech as he polished the great Autobot statue's podium. Before fire danced across the blood-soaked city streets of Cybertron, there was hope in his mind. A hope that suggested that, just maybe, a minicon as lowly as himself might amount to something in the grand scheme of things.   
His heavy tits fell upon the still hot puddle of hound piss (likely used to humiliate one of these wretched whores yet further.  
As if their suffering were not enough?) with a wet splat, before he began to slide them back and forth in some vain attempt to fulfill his joke of a "mandated life-term position" (if being forced to work all through the night, only to be stuffed in some cramped, grimy closet could be considered anything above outright slavery). Once they were soaked in the repulsive, faintly blue liquid, he pressed them into the foamy bucket of hot water (with a wet squelch, for fitting such a heavy pair into the tight constraints of a full-sized bucket was quite the task) and tried his best to clean them. Of course, he knew full well they would never be clean, and neither would he.   
If Safeguard was being entirely honest? He knew he could have it worse. The often imported masses of POWs and low-income bots to be used and abused until their sparks fizzle out was a constant reminder that he too could be treated as such. It was fortunate then that many of the bots upon Cybertron saw him, and his entire manufacturing line, as nothing but utensils. Few would stoop so low as to put his quietly buzzing hole to use, much less when so many dented, and scratched forced-prostitutes lay about drugged-up and dazed, waiting for their new violator to hold them down and rape them for the umpteenth time that night.  
At least he didn't have it that bad.  
  
The front door slid open, and two particularly filthy bots forced themselves in. The distinct lack of polish, and gold trimming, clearly marked the two as having no real authority short of brute force. How very Decepticon. Each of them bore less than refined designs, with visible gaskets and headlamps leaking through their bot forms, but below those (tightly compressed) breast-plates lay stomachs lined in tight muscles dusted in sand, and intermittently graced with droplets of sweat running down each, distinct, and very firm muscle.  
In fact, the large majority of their exposed synth-muscles were honed to a firm edge. Clearly these two were warriors back in the day, and going by their closed helmets hiding what was undoubtedly the sharpest of teeth? Decepticons. The two had almost immediately broken out into a disagreement with the front desk attendant, and going by the rather unimpressed look upon the worker's face? They didn't have enough credits to afford even the cheapest of prostitutes. Things, obviously, had not been in their favour for a long time.   
The truth of the matter was both Shatter and Dropkick had done it on the cheap for cycles now. Both of them spent almost every night either breaking bones and bruising themselves in vicious, dusty rally races, or on their knees trying to earn whatever credits they could to pay for their cramped quarters. No doubt many a night would be spent with their muscles pressed against one another's own, shifting for room, the air hot with desire and blood as their sharp claws wandered behind their firm rears in unison need.  
  
But this was only fair, after all, they'd bet on the losing team. Should they be swallowed up in the crushing debt of on-planet Cybertonian living they'd soon find themselves in far FAR less savoury circumstances. The sobbing and sounds of splattering juices in the nearby rooms stood testament to that.   
Midway through their conversation, the red femme threw her arms up into the air in an exasperated sigh, seemingly hitting a brick wall in the conversation, before a small, silvery blip on her radar (or, I suppose, whatever constitutes vision for bots without obvious eyes. Micro-imagery-receptors? Tiddy cameras.) caught her attention. One that immediately felt his spark start pulsing in cold terror, and immediately set his body to work so that he might be free of this hallway and, more importantly, her lecherous stare. His frantic cleaning was interrupted shortly thereafter as a claw gripped his arm and lifted him up from his duties, despite his terrified squeaking as he dangled helplessly.   
Soon enough the tiny minicon was thrown into the room haphazardly, though as fortune would smile upon him he landed on the still-warm recharge slab aft first, before rolling back into a pile of faintly damp headrests.  
"We only have 20 minutes, Shatter." The deep, rumbling, metallic voice of the blue mech reminded his twin as he shut the door, sealing Safeguard's fate in with a faint 'click'.   
  
"Now now, brother," The one known as Shatter replied, giving her brother a polite pat on the shoulder (and a rather impolite slap on his tight aft) as she passed him to retrieve the thrown minicon that was still dazed. As she lifted him up, face to face, he became all too aware of their immediate size difference. Were he standing next to this huge warrior he would barely come up to her knees, and even then his spike would have barely matched one of her sharp claws. Not that his spike was on their mind, but their undoubtedly mammoth, thick, throbbing lengths oozing lubricant and twitching to plunge into his plush, ruined fuckpit? This was certainly on his, and not with the connotations of arousal either.   
"You shouldn't rush a femme." That earned her a brief snort from Shatter, eager to make the remaining 19 minutes 'worth it'. She shot him what was probably a vicious glare, but soon her faceless head turned back to the prey dangling in her grip. Her helmet clicked and hissed before sections split open to expose her once respectfully hidden mouth. Fanged teeth, uniform, and razor-sharp were exposed, coated in slick, clear viscous saliva that slid out between the gaps and dangled from her chin. Each could easily pierce Safeguard's tender flesh, and tear him apart like a hungry cyberwolf. She spread her mouth, and from between those rows of sharp denticulation slithered out a slick... tongue? Could what poor Safeguard even beheld be considered a tongue?   
It was distinctly segmented, with spine-like 'transverse processes' fulfilling any desire for width, gradually getting wider and wider with each segment that led back into her black, gaping maw. Even along the top of this appendage, now slithering out of her mouth with a length that would rival any ordinary spike, were 'spinous processes'. Y'know what? Just look up a "spine whip". That, but with more wide, long segments that promise any and all valves it might press into would pop very, VERY loudly, repeatedly. And metal, naturally. We're not savages.   
This hard, segmented monstrosity slid up along Safeguard's hips, and lifted one of his heavy tits up, before recoiling back to let his massive breast bounce down. "Ugh!" She spat on the floor (unceremoniously) before declaring "He tastes like cyberhound piss!"   
  
There was a pause.   
  
And then she promptly smushed her face back up against his body, slobbering all over him like an eager whore. There was no doubt in his mind that these two were disgusting, and within moments the brother soon joined in. Both of their mouths were exposed, each dragging their sharp teeth against his soft flesh, sliding their thick, partitioned tongues along each and every one of his curves until he was positively dripping in saliva. Properly lubricated, they pulled free of him with their tongues pulling back in a manner similar to sucking up spaghetti. But far louder, and with a faint oral squirt escaping each of their throats.   
Shatter nervously checked his timer, and cursed under his breath. There was only 14 minutes remaining, and he was focused on getting his money's worth. After all, credits are hard to come by in the outer rim. So very, very hard to come by.  
As the minicon dangled there, he watched in horror (and, perhaps, just a little awe) as Shatter's breastplate unclipped itself, and retracted to let his sizeable rack flop out, soon accompanied by his crotchplate following suit, and permitting his thick, faintly spiked length of shiny chrome to stand up and drip the telltale glowing blue energon lubricant of arousal that was almost guaranteed to coat Safeguard's inner walls. The heavy, yet soft weight that promptly pressed upon the plaything's back promised the promiscuous partner's own perky pair was present too.   
These exposed segments were free from the thick coat of dust that covered the pair's dented and scratched paint jobs, and their taut, muscular stomachs that were slick with sweat. However, they were not the focus on his attention, for soon enough he was held dangling by his arm and presented with a meal far more repulsive. Shatter's firm, tight, muscular aft.  
The rear he currently beheld was one belonging to the red twin, and it was coated in a thin dusting of sand from her recent race, with slick driblets of sweat running down along those defined muscles. On one cheek she bore the telltale brand of a Decepticon, burned into her rear. No doubt her brother bore the same. Filthy 'Cons.  
Held mere inches from it, he could feel the heat emanating from the tight rump, and when she slid her claws down her flesh to expose her twitching fuckpit to him? He was immediately glad he no longer bore a mouth, for if he might he certainly would be made to lick the slick, repulsive hole clean. The thick, humid afthole was bubbling with juices and had not been washed to anything that resembled his own pulsing, hosed-down rear. No doubt the pair held no qualms with fucking each other's oil-coated, squirting fuckpits regardless of cleanliness.   
That said, the sheer size of this massive rim could easily fit both his arms and going from how quickly she pushed her rubbery ring up against his face? That might just be the case. Her brother followed suit with his own rear-end straining against Safeguard's defensively bent knees, and soon enough the poor minicon was pressed between both of their massive, pulsing holes. The heat and pheromones swallowed him up, drowning him in a lustful want that made his own puny spike stand fully erect.   
Of course, he resisted.   
  
How could he give into this? It was horrible! Their massive afts pressed with more gusto against him, and the angle he was forced into strained his spine something fierce. Every time they rocked their hips back he could feel his body strain, not to mention his face was forced right up against the huge, sweaty hole. Just in time for her to grab his face and hold him there while she squirted right against his face, cackling as juices bubbled over his visor, and all hope of making it out of this horrid night without shamefully solo-interfacing to it later lost in these wretched souls' aching insides.   
The pressure between the two was intense, and for a moment he felt like his spine would snap, but as luck would have it he was forced to endure something far worse, for after several minutes their holes gave way, and he was forced face-first into Shatter's massive, pulsing hole with a wet "VHLOMP!".  
He screamed as best he could, after all his shoulders and face were promptly pushed into an area with such tight compression that his visor cracked instantly, but all that came out were a series of weak beeps. He could feel his legs swallowed up in the same hot, pulsing embrace, and through the thick walls of misery he was encased in he could feel them shiver with delight.   
This was what they'd wanted all along. He was going to be their dildo. Their curvaceous, dog-piss-soaked fuck-toy, to shove wherever they wanted. The two pulled back, freeing his face and legs, and the minicon was 'blessed' with the sight of Shatter's massive, gaping hole for but a moment, and the spluttering, wet gush of raw pleasure that ran down her thighs and onto the plush surface of the mattress. How they'd made it onto the bed was beyond him, but then? It wasn't like he could see much when he was forced inside them.   
  
Within seconds he was forced in there again, this time with little resistance, as he squirmed to break free from this hot, dark passageway. Deeper and deeper he was pushed until he felt his plump tits slap against the underside of her spike's base, and his aft squish up against Dropkick's own far bigger rear.   
The little bot did his best to break free, he really did, but his squirming only made their huge holes squeak and pulse with delight, and inspired the two to link arms and press back against one another with deep, hearty groans.  
Shatter and Dropkick's holes squeaked and struggled to fit the minicon's "bonus features", straining to fit them in their tight rims, but soon enough they succeeded, and Safeguard's already tight, rubbery confinement was filled with the soft suffocation of his own tits with the wettest, most filthy, sloppy squeak he had ever heard drowning out his weak squeals. From both bots, actually, since his plump aft, and his poor little spike was eagerly forced into the blue twin's pulsing hole with an equally vile squirt. The two pressed against one another, holding Safeguard in place as they pulsed and squirted around him, their juices soaking him to his very core as they came.   
An eternity seemed to pass, before they began to pull off eachother. At least this misery was over.   
As if! Soon as his plump rump, and jiggling breasts popped free they were promptly squished back up against the holes, denying him any chance of cooling his central processor down. His bips of dismay were ignored as they swallowed him up once again, this time with a pair of clearly forced, disgusting wet squirts. Again and again, their massive, pulsing pits slammed up and down his body. He could feel their huge fuckpits pulsing each time they took his body, grinding his face and legs deeper into their huge, heavily lubricated insides. He was being used as their dildo! And every time Dropkick's rim grazed over the Safeguard's bouncing spike the minicon felt himself coming closer and closer to a pathetic little orgasm.  
He couldn't take this, he couldn't accept it, but he was made for this!   
Oh, Primus above was he made to be their fucktoy! Whenever they pulled out completely, with his body covered in slick, hot juices, Safeguard eagerly squirmed in excitement to be pushed back into them. The hot, smothering embrace of their horrid fuckpits thrilled him to no end. The loud, dirty popping vibrated along his own soft muscles, reaffirming just how low he was. He was their fucktoy! Their lube-soaked dildo made to fit in their pulsing fuckchutes until they came! His huge tits flopped out with each rock of their hips loudly with a splattering "POP", followed immediately with them being forced back in with a noisy squeak! Forget his old life, he was made for this! He was a filthy Decepticon dildo! Again and again, they slammed back against one another, their hands bound in a tight grip of "appropriate sibling affection", complete with the wet, sweaty slaps of their tight afts, until finally both their twitching, massive spikes came upon the mattress, and Safeguard his own when he was pulled free one final time, squirting up onto his own stomach before flopping onto the bed.   
  
Through his hazy, viscous-liquid soaked vision, he could behold their twitching, pulsing holes as they panted. His own body tingled all over, and even though the bed was soaked in their juices he still felt cold without the smothering embrace of their fuckpits. A loud beep (not from Safeguard, surprisingly) informed the trio (or, more accurately? Duo, and their new dildo) that their time was almost up.  
Breathless, the twins weakly crawled up against one another to press their long, segmented tongues into one another's mouth, not caring for all the saliva that dribbled between their tits. There was still one final treat in store for Safeguard, for given he was presently between the two, they had ample opportunity to pull their afts up and onto his body, smothering him in their pulsing, gaping holes on last time. The raw heat made his processor struggle to think of anything other than their valves, squirming in delight like an animal, he felt their rims pucker and tighten before squirting against him one last time.  
A very loud, bubbling, and downright sloppy squirt, mind you, that drew out into a weak, pulsing splutter before they pulled off the sodden and dazed minicon with trails of lubricant between the three. His own vision fading, he was disoriented, dazed, barely able to catch them licking themselves down like gluttonous sluts, before actually wiping the juices off themselves and sealing one another up. Their words were muffled, his head still ringing, but he could make out one little, hope-crushing tidbit.  
  
"It's a shame we can't afford to keep him."


End file.
